


To Complete The Mission

by LadyMikiri



Category: Naruto
Genre: Dark, Disturbing Content, Gen, InoShikaCho minor appearance, Kid Hatake Kakashi, Psychological Torture, Suicide Attempt, The Author Regrets Nothing, Torture, and everything, poor kakashi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-05-22 09:53:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6074797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMikiri/pseuds/LadyMikiri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 9 year old Kakashi gets captured and interrogated. Dark and not for the faint of heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is more of a set up, but Kakashi does suffer in it so keep in mind the tags.

Missions going sideways happened far more than it should. That didn’t make it any less trying when they did. Especially when the youngest member of the team had to pay the price. However, this time the other members of the team didn’t seem too upset. 

“He’s that traitor’s son. You know the Third has a soft spot for him. If we don’t at least try to get him back, we’ll end up being the ones to pay for it.” Fumio said.

Yutaka gazed at the ground, irate. “It’s that little shit’s own fault he got captured. If he hadn’t gone on through that blockade, he’d be fine.” They sat in silence. It was Yutaka who broke the silence. “We’ll try to rescue him after the scrolls been delivered. After all, he’s the one who always insists on the mission coming first.” His voice had a spiteful tinge. 

Fumio made eye contact and smiled darkly. “It’s what he would have wanted.”

...

Kakashi’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness as much as possible, and he still couldn’t see anything. He had taken stock of his injuries as soon as he had woken up. Right shoulder-sprained, but usable; Fourth and fifth ribs, right side-partial fracture. Three abdominal lacerations-serious,  _ but not serious enough for me to bleed out any time soon  _ he had thought bitterly before he caught himself. Several cuts on both legs. Shoes missing. He couldn’t remember those being lost in the fight so their absence worried him a bit. His biggest worry, however, was that he registered no head wounds yet he couldn’t remember how he had been knocked out. 

He wondered for but a moment if his team would come for them.  _ They better not _ . They should finish the mission then return to the village. He had no doubt that by the time they delivered the scroll, he would be beyond saving. They could return to the village, and he could die in service of the village and reclaim a small measure of honor for his family name. The darkness of these hopes never crossed his mind. That fact that no 9 year old should hope to be tortured to death was not a concern of his. His greatest concern was that his team would return for him instead of completing the mission. He couldn’t imagine the hatred the village would have for him if they did that. He knew he could never be a hero in the village, but were that to happen, dying for the village wouldn’t even be enough to bring his name honor. 

A sound brought him to attention. At the far wall, the first cracks of light appeared. A door was opening. The brightness blinded him as the silhouette of several men moved into the doorway. “I’d say you were too young to have any information of use to us, but after you killed 4 of my shinobi, I’d be stupid to underestimate you based only on your size. So now the question is how long will it take for you to give us the information on that scroll the Leaf is so desperate to deliver?”

Kakashi remained silent. 

The man motioned to his two men. They roughly grabbed Kakashi’s arms. Pain shot through his shoulder, but he didn’t cry out. He knew realistically at some point they would succeed in making him scream, but he would make it as long as possible without uttering a sound for them. He tried to force his feet to walk, but the men were dragging him along too fast to get his feet under him. His attempts only managed to irritate his other wounds so he stopped after a minute. They made it to a larger, well lit room. A metal chair sat in the middle. As they moved closer to it, Kakashi noted it was bolted to the floor. He had contemplated attempting an escape when the men had come for him. The metal chains with chakra seals had meant it would be inadvisable to fight back at that point. He had hoped wherever they were taking him would provide an opportunity, but looking at the room that had clearly been used for this purpose before he knew that was not going to happen. 

They threw him into the chair and secured each of his legs to the legs of the chair with thick cords. Then they removed his handcuffs and secured each wrist to the arms of the chair. The metal was cold, and the cords they wrapped around him were too tight. The two men moved to stand behind him. The leader stood contemplating him before he spoke. “I think we’ll let you keep that mask on for now. I doubt it affects your ability to speak, and that’s all we really need for you to do. My name is Iwao. You’re not the first prisoner I’ve questioned. I will admit you are the youngest, but as I said before, I won’t hold your age against you.”  Iwao stepped closer and crouched down to Kakashi’s level. His voice was grim as he continued, “Tell me the information in the scroll your team was trying to deliver. Do that, and I will give you a quick death.” 

Kakashi’s eyes didn’t waver, and he never considered gracing this man with an answer. He had already decided on his plan of action. These men clearly thought it would be easier to extract information from a child than steal the scroll from the rest of the hidden leaf ninja. The longer Kakashi could keep them occupied the more likely it would be that the mission would be completed. It should take his team a maximum of 5 days to complete the delivery. Kakashi would hold out for a week just to be safe then pretend to break. He’d feed them false information and then be killed. He’d have fulfilled his responsibility to the village, and then he’d be allowed to die. The simplicity of the plan made him happy. He couldn’t have chosen his manner of death better if he had tried. 

Iwao straightened. He placed his hand on Kakashi’s right shoulder. He pushed down. Sharp pain shot up his neck and through his side. Kakashi grit his teeth, but kept his face neutral. Iwao removed his hand. “So,” he mused, “you might be a difficult one. Osamu, bring me my chair.” One of the men reentered Kakashi’s vision carrying a simple metal seat. He set it down directly in front of Kakashi then returned to his place. Iwao had walked to a table against the wall to Kakashi’s left. When he sat down in the chair, Kakashi saw what he had retrieved and suppressed a shiver. Pliers. They had many uses in this context and none of them were good. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picks up right where the last ended.

Iwao straighten the first finger on Kakashi’s left hand. “Normally, I would start with a simple beating, but that would accomplish little with you, I think,” he said as he gripped the fingernail with the tips of the pliers. He began to pull. Kakashi tried to free his finger, but between the cords holding his wrist in place and the strong hand holding his digit frozen, he failed. The pain increased at a hellish rate as the nail was slowly ripped out of his skin. His breathing increased, and he tucked his chin to his chest as his whole body tensed in an attempt to protect itself against the agony. 

“This is one of the simpler means of torture,” Iwao stated in a tone that would be conversational if he wasn’t focusing so intently. The nail was sliding out as he spoke. Kakashi gasped for breath as it ripped free. The pain caused his hand to spasm as Iwao let go. He threw his head back, slamming it into the chair. The pain didn’t register nor did the blood that slowly dripped down his neck. “No, no, we can’t have that.” Iwao motioned to one of the men behind Kakashi. Kakashi had recovered enough of himself to register that a thick leather collar was being placed around his neck. The man attached it to the tall back of the chair. It prevented most head movement. 

Iwao gazed at him for a moment until Kakashi brought his eyes to glare back. “All I need is the details on that scroll. I know you know what was written on it. Tell me and this ends.” Silence. Iwao grabbed his left hand again. “One down, 9 to go.” He gripped the pliers on the nail of Kakashi’s middle finger and began to pull. Kakashi grit his teeth and pushed his head against the back of the chair as though he could escape the pain. He couldn’t. 

As the fourth nail was started, Kakashi finally screamed. Iwao didn’t stop, but simply watched Kakashi’s face as he continued to pull. The tears started to fall from the child’s eyes as he gasped for breath between screams. The fourth came off and Kakashi’s head hung limply as whimpers escaped despite his best efforts to remain in control.  _ Shinobi’s don’t cry  _ echoed through his head as he sought anything in his mind to distract him from the pain. He found nothing.

Iwao steadied his thumb and began removing the final nail from his left hand. Kakashi screamed again, his voice not losing any volume. After dropping the final nail into the bucket next to him, Iwao stood. The only sounds were Kakashi’s agonized breaths and the sound of the water in the sink as Iwao washed the blood from the pliers and his hands. He finished, dried them, and returned to his position in front of Kakashi. He grabbed Kakashi’s hair in his hand and yanked his head up to look at him. Kakashi’s glare had lost much of its fierceness. “I usually start with the left hand because many shinobi favor their right. They can suffer through the pain, but the threat of permanent damage to their best hand combined with the threat of pain is too much. They cave. I’ve already informed you you will not leave here alive, but the pain is a foregone conclusion if you do not tell me what I want to know. You still have one hand with five good fingers. Do you want to keep it that way?” Kakashi’s breathing was shaky, and his eyes were red with tears, but his gaze did not waver nor did he utter a word. “Very well then,” Iwao said, releasing Kakashi’s hair. Kakashi passed out after the seventh was ripped free. 

...

A whimper escaped as he returned to consciousness. It took no more than a second for the pain to remind him where he was. He took several steadying breaths before slowly raising his head. The chair was still in front of him, empty. He felt blood dripping from his fingers-but not all of them. Somewhere in the back of his head, he had hoped that the man would remove the rest of them while he was out so he wouldn’t be conscious for the pain. Kakashi had been injured in battle many times, but never had he felt pain like this. 

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or frustrated. Many break by the second or third finger. Most before the second hand. Few last as long as you have. Shinobi are accustomed to being brave in the face of danger in battle. But this form of danger, not many can handle. To say nothing of the pain.” Iwao sat in his chair. “Explain to me how a child remained conscious longer than any other man I’ve tortured.”

Even if Kakashi had trusted his voice to speak, he wouldn’t have offered the man an answer. 

“We’ll finish this then move on to something else. I doubt these last three nails will be your tipping point, but I’m a fan of symmetry so it must be done.” Iwao was right. The final three, while still immensely painful, were not enough to cause Kakashi to second guess his silence. They didn’t even tear screams from him. It was as though some part of his brain was still unconscious and did not fully register the pain. Perhaps his body would shut down before the time came for him to feed them false intell. He couldn’t have that. His mission may have changed, but he still had to complete it. 


	3. Chapter 3

 

“Osamu.” The man came back into Kakashi’s vision. Kakashi noted the hand signs the man made were vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place them. 

...

Kakashi woke up to the familiar ceiling of the Konoha hospital. He couldn’t remember being rescued. He couldn’t believe his team had rescued him.  _ Wait, no! His team had rescued him. Had they completed the mission first?  _ His panicked thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. A nurse came in. He didn’t acknowledge Kakashi. He simply checked the bandages on his hands, wrote something in his chart, and left. Kakashi had watched him with growing horror. He knew that cold indifference. He knew what came next. They hadn’t completed the mission.  _ No. No! _ He couldn’t deal with that hate. He couldn’t deal with being a failure like his father. 

He ripped the white sheet off and stood up. After sneaking out the window and avoiding everyone, he made it to his apartment. He was surprised. His door held no graffiti. He had expected it to be covered just as his clan’s compound had been not so long ago. Perhaps the news hadn’t reached the rest of the village yet. His small hope was destroyed as he opened the door. His apartment was in ruins. He had found this place shortly after his fa- after he had been on his own. He had only just set it up in a way he liked. Now, the few pieces of furniture were broken. His futon was ripped to shreds. The walls covered in red paint; the words TRAITOR, DISGRACE, FAILURE, JUST LIKE YOUR FATHER dried into the walls. He knew from experience that the stains would never fully come out. 

He shut the door slowly behind him and stood staring at the ruins in the dark, the moonlight coming in through the window the only light. A moment later he fell to his knees, slamming his fist on the floor in rage and sorrow. He had tried.  _ He had tried.  _ The tears fell freely. He didn’t care that they were soaking his mask. He didn’t care that the heavy breathing was hurting his lungs. He didn’t care that  _ shinobis don’t cry.  _ He wasn’t a shinobi anymore. He was a failure. Nothing more than a copy of his father-no, he was worse than his godforsaken father. At least his father had served the village for a time before destroying himself. Kakashi had never served any purpose. He realized he had been born a failure and would die as nothing more. The thought numbed him. The tears stopped but the pain remained. He mechanically got up and began to clean the debris that had once been his only possessions. He salvaged enough pieces of his futon to sleep on. Although he was exhausted, he knew sleep would not visit him anytime soon. Instead, he made some tea and started on the task of cleaning his walls. Several buckets of red water later only the faint silhouettes of the curses remained. He noticed the sun had risen sometime during his cleaning. He wasn’t hungry, but he knew he would need food later. Better to get it now while few people were out. 

He made it to the store without encountering anyone. He gathered a small basket of food that would feed him for several days. He went to check out. The worker went to greet him but stopped. “You can’t shop here,” he said with malice. 

“Please,” Kakashi said quietly. “I just need to get some food.”

“After what you and that bastard have done for this village, I won’t sell you a damn thing.” His voice had risen. 

Kakashi recognized when a battle was unwinnable. He set his groceries down and left. Before he could decide which store in the village would sell to him, he was ambushed. A jounin he didn’t recognize slammed him into the wall. “You thought you could show your face? You worthless little shit. Are you even on the side of this village?” 

Kakashi looked into the faces of the men and women surrounding him. What did they want him to say? That he knew he was a failure? That he already hated himself far more than they ever could? He knew there was nothing that would placate them. 

“The Hokage should demote you. You shouldn’t be allowed to fight for this village. You Hatakes only cause trouble and pain for this village.”

“You should leave. You have no family here. No ties. You’re alone. Leave before you cause more damage than your father did.”

“You should have died for the village. Instead, this village will end up dying for you.”

The taunts grew in number and in noise. Some were even screaming at him. He wanted to scream back that he knew all those things. He couldn’t. He tried to think of what to say or do. He couldn’t and he was only becoming more and more frustrated. 

“YOU’RE WORSE THAN YOUR FATHER!” one voice rose above the mob.

“I know,” Kakashi choked out. Tears started to fall. “I know,” he repeated more quietly. 

“Is he crying? Pathetic.”

Kakashi had to get away. The weight he felt on his chest was crushing him. He couldn’t breath. He was shivering and sweating. His hands began to tremble. He knew he couldn’t break down here in front of these people. He lept to the roof of the nearest building, stumbling as the tears clouded his vision. He made it through his window and broke. He ripped his mask off and clutched his chest, willing it to work. He fell to his side, gasping for air as his tears fell soaking the floor. _ I know I know  _ he thought in response to the echoes of those people’s accusations.  _ I know I’m a failure. I know. I know I’m alone. I know. I know no one wants me.  _ The admissions did nothing to quiet the voices.  _ I know I don’t deserve to live. I know I don’t deserve to live. I know-  _ The answer appeared in his mind as a quiet voice of reason against the backdrop of the hateful chorus. It’s appearance ripped a sob from his throat. He had sworn not to follow in his father’s footsteps. He couldn’t. But he had already failed. What was one more, final failure? He stood up slowly and walked to where the Hatake katana lay. He picked it up, and went to kneel on his floor. For a moment, he thought that it was a shame the katana had ended up in his family. Had it belonged to another clan it would have been put to better use. Perhaps, after it was cleaned, it would be given to another, more worthy shinobi. Kakashi hoped so. It was his last thought before he plunged the sword into his stomach.

...

With a gasp and a jerk, Kakashi snapped to attention. He registered the darkness of his torture chamber. His whole body trembled. He didn’t notice the tears that were now streams. He didn’t notice the bleeding from his fingers had been stopped. He didn’t notice anything. He began to sob. It wasn’t from the pain. It wasn’t the realization that he hadn’t been rescued nor was it from realizing none of it was real.  He couldn’t have explained exactly why his soul felt crushed or why he continued to sob until consciousness released him. He knew only that he wanted the feeling to stop.

 

“What exactly did you use?” Iwao ask Osamu. They had watched through a hidden window. The reaction of their captive had been more dramatic than they expected. 

“A genjutsu that manifests the target’s greatest fear. Normally, they awaken terrified, but not sobbing. Though, I’ve never used it on a child.” 

“This is no ordinary child. No ordinary shinobi either. I wonder just how far we’ll have to push him to get him to crack.” Iwao turned away from the window. “Leave him. We’ll get some sleep and begin again tomorrow.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the long delay and any mistakes. I'm uploading from my phone just so I can finally get this updated.

* * *

 

“Genjutsu. Though I have a feeling you’ve figured that out by now.”

Kakashi stared through him. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his mask was still damp. His tears had lasted long into the night; sleep never had found him.

“Tell me, what did you see? We were a bit surprised by your reaction. It differed from the usual one.”

Kakashi remained silent and for the first time, Iwao became frustrated. He harshly grabbed the edge of the mask and ripped it down. Kakashi felt exposed, but it was almost welcomed. The wetness had begun to irritate his skin. “I didn’t know boys could be this pretty,” Iwao gripped Kakashi’s chin and forced him to make eye contact. Without another word, Iwao stepped back, releasing his grasp. Osamu and Nori removed the neck restraints. His head fell forward. While they freed his wrists, he tried to estimate how long he had been there. Assuming their last absence had been due to it being night, that meant it had been a full day since he had first woken up. Unfortunately he had no way of knowing how long he had been unconscious when he had been brought here. He’d have to assume one day at most. That meant he had roughly 5 more days to endure before he could ‘break.’

He was jerked out of his thoughts as they pulled him from the chair by his arms. His wrists had been chained together again. He almost laughed when he saw the chakra seals. He had lost too much blood, and the genjutsu had exhausted him. Escaping was not an option even with access to his chakra. He grimaced as his arms were raised above his head and secured to a chain hanging from the ceiling. His feet could lay flat on the floor, and he supported himself with what strength he had left. Once he was in place, Osamu and Nori once again returned to their positions out of his sight.

“In case you've forgotten, all I want is the details of that scroll. You have the ability to end this. This is your choice.” Iwao waited only a moment before he struck at Kakashi’s chest. Kakashi felt his rib break directly under Iwao’s fist. A strangled cried passed his lips at the impact. He jerked backwards straining not only his injured shoulder but his wrists that had been rubbed raw. The pain caused him to desperately search for more air, but the expansion of his lungs hurt his chest more. Iwao gave him no reprieve before he struck twice more. Kakashi wanted to scream, but that required deep lungfuls of air. He settled for strangled cries and whimpers. Iwao paused, giving Kakashi time to talk. When he didn’t, Iwao wrapped his hands around Kakashi’s neck. Kakashi struggled to breath. He knew Iwao didn’t want him dead yet, but he didn’t understand his actions. That is, not until Iwao let go. With his airway open, his lungs worked of their own accord, taking in deep breaths regardless of the agonizing pain it caused his shattered ribs. The pain only made him gasp for air resulting in more pain. He didn’t know how long Iwao stood there and watched uninterested as Kakashi fought for control of his breathing. As it returned to some semblance of controlled albeit shallow breaths, Iwao raised his eyebrows. Kakashi knew what that meant. Iwao was giving him a chance to talk. With the last bit of defiance he could muster, he returned Iwao’s look with one of bored indifference. Iwao wrapped his hands around Kakashi’s neck once more. This time as Kakashi’s lungs and brain were warring for control, the lack of oxygen won out, and he slipped mercifully into unconsciousness.

Iwao looked at the limp body hanging from the ceiling in front of him. He was going to have to rethink his approach. They didn’t have time for this.

...

Kakashi woke up and groaned. He was laying on the floor, his wrists still chained, but his feet free as far as he could tell. He could see the chain he had been hanging from on the ceiling above him. His mind was slow. He had no idea how much time had passed. He came to the realization that he would be unable to judge when a week was up. Even if his captor slipped up and mentioned it, he couldn’t know if it was true. He was going to have to hold out as long as possible. Once he reached his limit he would ‘break’ and then be free. He hoped he held on long enough.

After a while, the door opened yet again and his captors entered. He was reattached to the ceiling without a word. Iwao didn’t even bother with his usual speech. He just grabbed a long, thin stick and struck Kakashi once across his chest. Kakashi hissed. The sharp pain felt like a deep cut. The pace was increased until Kakashi was weeping. Every now and then, he would open his mouth to scream, but no sound would come out. His vocal cords were too damaged to produce anything.  
Iwao was breathing heavily. Sweat clung to his forehead. “Why won’t you talk?!” he asked, his voice tinged with madness. “You’re a child!” Another strike. “You should have broken the first day!” A shot to his leg. “I know you’re in pain!” A backhand across his exposed arm. “I’ve heard your sobs!” A deep slash into his side. A wheeze. “What information is in that scroll?! Tell me and this ends! Tell me!” The wild strike caught his cheek. A whimper. “I will not be beaten by a child!” Kakashi waited for the next strike, but it never came.

“It looks like you already have been,” a voice from somewhere said. Kakashi didn’t have the strength to lift his head. He wasn’t coherent enough to understand what was going on. He heard new voices, but the importance of this fact escaped him. “Choza, take care of the two in the back. Inoichi, the leader. I’ll deal with the kid.”

Kakashi felt hands lift him up and unhook his wrist from the ceiling chain. The hands then laid him down gently. His eyes took in a face with scars and a dark goatee. He thought he vaguely remembered seeing it somewhere.

“Shit, it’s the Hatake kid.”

Kakashi thought to himself that name sounded familiar as he passed out.


End file.
